#Tom one shot

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 | 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

જ⁀➴ your best friends get a hint of how sexually frustrated you are and offer their help

: ̗̀➛ nsfw, smut, teasing, making out, nicknames, cheating with Tom, fingering, oral on female, p in v unprotected, nipple sucking

「 ✦ Mattheo, Tom, Theodore, Enzo, Draco, Pansy ✦ 」

Mattheo:

❥ It didn‘t took him long to notice something‘s wrong. You two sit together in potions, currently making a new potion. Normally you two would laugh and banter all the time, teasing each other but you were so quiet today and didn‘t even look at him

❥ "Y/n, is everything alright?" he asks and puts his hand on your shoulder, drawing a little whine from you. His eyebrows knitted and he took a step back, scanning you whole. He just then noticed your flushed cheeks, flustered expression, your thighs pressed together and your bottom lip between your teeth. You were turned on.

❥ He wanted to test his theory a little and started to prepare the ingredients for the potion in front of you two. He flexed his arms a little, knowing you liked his hands because you once told him when you two were drunk. He saw your hungry gaze at his hands, making him smile to himself.

❥ "Here, chop up the root. Can you do that for me, doll?" He softly breathed against your face, coming dangerous close to you. The nickname gave you visible shiver‘s, just feeding right into his ego. He had a crush on you since forever but never actually had the balls to tell you.

❥ After class was over and you guys were free he pulled you with him to his dorm. "M-mattheo what are you doing?" you wondered but followed him. He closed the door behind you and grabbed you by your hips, pushing you against the door. A gasp left your lips and you looked at him like a deer in the lights.

❥ "Care to tell me why you‘re so .. on edge?" Thats when you finally let everything out. You broke up with your boyfriend and the reason was simple: He couldn't fuck. Mattheo had to hold back a laugh at your outburst of emotions. "It's not funny! It's so frustrating you can't even imagine!"

❥ "Want me to help you? You know.. like a best friend would." he offers you with a smug smirk on his face. You thought he was joking until he had you trembling and shaking under him. He hit every corner and touched every part of your skin that was untouched by your ex-boyfriend. "What are friends for huh?" he moaned when you clenched around him, your nails digging into his back when your orgasm came nearer. Let's just say, you never ever had to fear bad sex again.

Tom Riddle:

❥ You and your best friend Tom sat together in the library when no one was there anymore, thank‘s to Tom‘s charm and good reputation. It all started with your leg bouncing the whole time until Tom send you an annoyed glare which made you stop immediately.

❥ But it continued with your sighing. It got so distracting that at one point Tom slapped his book down onto the table so hard that you flinched. "Please tell me why you‘re sighing like a hurt puppy the whole damn time."

❥ You really considered telling him but you were kind of shy when talking about things like that. On top if that Tom already hated your boyfriend and you didn‘t want to give him another reason to add to the list. "Nothing, just.. tired."

❥ Tired my ass was what Tom thought. He knew you were lying so he had to try a different way. It didn‘t took him long to get inside your head with his new found skill ' Legilimency'

❥ "He told you what?!" Tom suddenly shouts at you. "What?" you asked him confused. "He told you that when you asked him for some foreplay?" He didn‘t even tried to hide the fact that he read your mind. "Tom! Stop going through my head all the damn time!" "Did he seriously tell you it‘s not worth the time?"

❥ He scoffs when you tell him the whole thing that happened with your boyfriend. "No wonder you‘re that sexually frustrated." "Excuse me?" "Come on. All the sighing and leg bouncing the whole time? Your body needs release." He said in a monotone voice like he talked about the weather. "Well – it‘s not that easy Tom." "It is. Let me help you."

❥ Since he could read your mind it made no sense to even try and deny the excitement that went through your body at his offer. He had you laying all spread out for him on the library desk in front of him. Books and notes all over the place and even floor. Your skirt got pushed up to your stomach and his fingers skillfully played with your throbbing clit.

❥ "Look at that. How could this not be worth anyone‘s time hm?" Tom muttered while sucking on your nipples, switching every minute between them while pumping his fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit until you came around his digits. And that waw just the beginning of a whole night of foreplay.

Theodore Nott:

❥ That‘s exactly how your best friend looks at you when he overhears you talking to Pansy, telling her, you haven‘t slept with someone in so long that you would do abything for dick now. Obviously it was a joke. But obviously Theo wouldn’t be Theo If he didn‘t already formed a plan in his head.

❥ Teasing was the keyword. And patience. Theo‘s plan was to tease you little by little over days to get a reaction out of you.

❥ First day he brushed past you every here and there with his hips pushing slightly against you and his hands on your hips. It made your whole head spin and you tried to calm down, seeing him smiling at you innocently.

❥ The second day was just as simple. The whole day he whispered into your ear, laughing, joking, asking things about the class you two were having right now. And with every whisper he brushed his lips against your ear lobe or shell, his warm breath hitting your skin and leaving goosebumps behind.

❥ On the third day he got a bit bolder. When you started bouncing your leg or fidgeting with your fingers, he would put his hand on your thigh. High. He said "It‘s to calm you down a little bit cara mia." His big hands squeezing your flesh and his fingers stroking your desperate skin.

❥ Day four you and all your friends sat in the common room on the couch by the fireplace. You sat next to Theo of course, sharing a blanket since it‘s cold due the late night. At some point he had you leaning against his chest with his arms around you. While you lazily listened to Draco telling ya‘ll a story, Theo‘s finger started to dance over your slighty exposed skin on your stomach. Your shirt mist have rosen up a little under the blanket. You sucked in a breath, trying not to melt right there in front of everyone.

❥ Day five and six were the hardest because he completely neglected you. He talked to you but never stood beside you or sat next to you in class or lunch. It drove you literally crazy. Why would he do this to you? He didn‘t even hug you. But you also couldn‘t ask him because how would that sound? 'Hey Theo why don‘t you touch me anymore?' No thanks.

❥ Day seven was when you actually broke. "Theo, we need to talk, please." You practically dragged him away from the rest of your friends to your‘s and Pansy‘s room. "How can I help you principessa?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. "Touch me." was all you blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and looked surprised at you. "What?" "Touch me Theo, please. I - I can‘t concentrate anymore when you‘re not near me."

❥ Well – what was supposed to be innocent touching and stroking, ended with you on your belly on your bed with Theo behind you, pounding his cock into your pussy. "Everytime from now on that you feel like this, you come to me, capito?"

Lorenzo Berkshire:

❥ You and Enzo were best friends since you could remember. You two have gone through everything together. Break-up‘s, first heartbreak, fighting with parents, puberty, seeing each other naked by accident, literally everything.

❥ You two were so close that nobody even questioned it when you were cuddling under a blanket in the common room late at night while your friends talked about how unfair the quidditch game today was.

❥ "Did you use that peach-shampoo again?" he whispered into your ear when you layed down on his chest and your hair was right under his nose. You looked up at him and nodded with a smile, knowing it was his favorite. He sighs when he inhales it and wraps his arms around you, his fingers playing with the hem of your little crop top.

❥ Enzo was so concentrated at sonething Theodore told the group, that he didn‘t notice how he started to play with the top of her skirt, his fingers gliding under it so innocently. When you noticed you stopped breathing for a second, glanzing up at your best friend who didn‘t seem to notice what he was doing.

❥ At first it was okay but after ten more minutes, you felt yourself getting restless in his arms and shifted every now and then in his lap. You felt yourself get slowly turned on from his little touch. With his second hand he started to stroke your thigh mindlessly, not realizing how your cheeks started to get red and your pussy wet. You pressed your lips together.

❥ Then it happened. Your hips grinded against his lap out of the pleasure and desperation you felt. He froze immediately and stopped moving his hands and fingers. He gulped and looked down at you, your heavy eyes already looking up at him when you grinded against him again boldly.

❥ He swallowed down a moan when your ass grinded against his crotch. "What are you doing baby?" The nickname send shivers down your spine together with his raspy voice against your ear. "I think – I think I need out friendship to go to the next level." You breathed out. You saw him biting his lips when his hands startet moving again. One hand continueing massaging your thigh while the other slipped down into your underwear and went straight to your slick folds.

❥ "Shit you‘re soaked." he breathed when he dipped his finger into your wet pussy, teasing your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked up and you tried to be as quiete as possible so your friends around you wouldn‘t notice. Right when you were about to come around his fingers, he pulled them away, your eyes going wide.

❥ You glared up at him with a desperate look in your eyes and rosy cheeks. He licked his fingers clean when no one watched and smirked down at you. "Don‘t worry baby, you‘re gonna come around something way bigger."

Draco Malfoy:

❥ "Draco?" "Yes, y/n?" You currently were in his room at the malfoy manor due holiday‘s and since his parents really liked you – good reputation and behavior, pure blood family and a lot of money – they never had a problem with you over. The complete opposite was the case. They often hoped you two would be more than best friends some day.

❥ "Can you remember when you told me you would do anything for me?" You asked him with your voice cute and hopeful. "No.. but go on." You roll your eyes at his answer but go on like he said.

❥ "Well, there is something that you could do for me that I think you would enjoy too." you said carefully. His eyebrows rose up and he looked at you curious now. "Oh yeah and what would that be, doll?" That‘s the nickname he used on you everytime you asked him for a favor.

❥ Now or never, right? "I - I want you.. tofuckme." His eyes go wide and his jaw fell to the floor. "What did you just say?" he asks slowly, not sure If he understood right. "I said Iwantyoutofuckme." He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing you by your chin. "Y/n.. tell me slowly what you said or I swear – " "I want you to fuck me, Draco."

❥ His lips crashed into yours just a second later, pushing you down on his bed. You kissed him vack, more confused than he was. "Are you- aren‘t you gonna ask why I want this so suddenly?" you gasp when he starts sucking on your neck and his fingers already opening your jeans.

❥ "Fuck no, you can tell me afterwards. I don‘t care." he breathes before he throws all of your clothes all over his room and fucks you into his mattress for the whole night.

❥ After you two were done he pulled you against his chest, still breathing heavily. "And? What was the reason?" he asked out of breath. "Well uh – I broke up with Colin. He just couldn‘t make me happy in and outside the bedroom so .. I wanted to ask you to help me since ai felt so.. worked up." He chuckled deeply and pulled you even closer. "Told you he‘s a loser.." you roll your eyes at his comment. "You‘re mine bow, hope you know that."

Pansy Parkinson:

❥ "Pansy, can I ask you something?" you asked your best friend. You two shared a dorm together and sat currently in front of the tv you had bought for the two if you. Her new favorite show "baby" was playing. It was a italian show and she loved learning new languages. "Of course, what‘s wrong?" "Why has something to be wrong?" "Y/n.. you never ask to ask something.. only when something is wrong."

❥ You had to smile a little at her answer and rolled your eyes playfully. "Since you‘re sleeping with boys and girls.. I wanted to ask you.. do you enjoy going down on girls?" Pansy looks at you surprised. "Why are you asking me that? This isn‘t coming from no where."

❥ I sigh and look at my hands. "Uhm – Brody said he doesn‘t like it and it .. freaks him out." I tell her what my boyfriend told me. Her eyes go wide and she almost shouts at me, "He said what?!" "Can you please just answer me Pansy?"

❥ She sighs and looks at my fidgety hands. "Of course I enjoy it and what kind of man is he that he says something like that to you?" "Is it possible that maybe it‘s.. me? That something is wrong with me and not him? Maybe it looks weird or-" "Y/n stop. I promise you nothing is wrong with you love."

❥ "But you can‘t know that Pans.." "Do you want to try?" Now you are the one who looks at her in shock. "You would ?" "Yeah but only If you‘re comfortable with it of course. I know that you only have been with boys." Your cheeks heated up a little at the thought of doing something so intimate with your best friend. You two have talked about that one time and Pansy knew how open you were to trying it someday with a woman too.

❥ Let‘s just say from there on you never questioned yourself again. "Pansy I - that‘s do good." You let out a whinper, your habds going through her hair. "Hmm such a pretty girl. You‘re doing so good love." She praised you, smiling to herself. She would have a lot of fun with you in the future.

let me know If you liked it 🫶🏻 and sorry if pansy‘s part is so short but i ran out of time, ideas and i never wrote for her before 🤍

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @auxcordlawd @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis

My masterlist and taglist 🤍

xoxo sarah <3

[lqveharrington]

Golden Snitch | D.M.

summary: You don’t tell Draco what you’re dressing up as, and when he sees you, he can’t help but be enamored.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

includes: kissing, underage drinking, talks of sex, cursing

a/n: holding a poll for a similar imagine but a different character! (will post the other imagine in two days and poll in three!)

Halloween was a big thing at Hogwarts. Each house held their own parties and own costume competitions; There would be snacks — courtesy of the kitchen elves — and drinks smuggled in from home or Hogsmeade. It was one of the best nights throughout the school year.

From your fourth year to your very last, you enjoyed every single second. Of course, you were dressed differently every year in hopes to win the costume contests. You were the Corpse Bride, then Dorothy, then a pirate. But this year, you chose something a little closer to Hogwarts itself.

“You know we have to get down there now if you want to be in the competition, right?” Pansy flicked her hair back and adjusted her Cher outfit.

You huffed and finished the last bits of gold adorning your cheeks. You loved Pansy, you really did, but jesus, she was a stickler to rules and schedules sometimes.

“Look, I’m done now.” You dust your hands off and arrange your golden wings to be more presentable. “How do I look?”

“Hot.” Her eyes roamed over your body and winked at you. “Draco will totally drool.”

You send her an amused smile before rushing out the dorm hand in hand. When you got to the Slytherin common room, everyone and everything was already upbeat. The lights had been dimmed even more and green lights were casted all around. The floor was sticky in spilt drinks and the room reeked of sex.

"Let's go get drinks!" Pansy shouted over the loud music and elbowed her way through the mass of Slytherin students, gagging when one couple was getting too intimate on the dance floor. "I am so happy you and Draco have boundaries!"

You roll your eyes at her and grab a plastic cup, filling it with firewhisky and downing it fast enough to forget what Pansy had said. She gave you an unimpressed look and took her own shot.

After joining the infamous costume contest and winning, mingling with the others and downing more drinks, a fifth year finally announced the arrival of the Slytherin Prince himself. And the party only got rowdier from there.

The second the blonde stepped into the common room, drinks were shoved into his hands; A courtesy of Blaise. Draco made his way over to the group of seventh years he deemed his friends since childhood before his eyes landed on you.

His eyes roamed across your body. From the golden makeup adorning your gorgeous face to the golden dress that hugged your curves and accentuated them, it was like he fell in love all over again. He watched you down another drink and shook his head in amusement. You looked so confident and happy and excited and ethereal in what you wore that he wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Well, what do we have here?” His free hand found its way to the curve of your hip and pulled you close to him, smirking when your eyes get blown wide at his sudden presence. “You look ravishing.”

“I know. I won the competition like always.” You brag as you murmur and wrap a hand around his tie, softly tugging on it so you could meet his lips without needing to strain. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“James Bond.” He pulled you even closer, wanting to be completely flush against you. “But I should’ve worn my Quidditch uniform because I believe I have my eye on the golden snitch.”

The smile that graced your lips practically emits warmth when you realize Draco knew what you were. “You should probably keep your sight on her because she’s not straying far.”

“Better not.” He planted a mind searing kiss to your lips and thumbed the costume, parting when he felt how rough it was. “Your dress feels uncomfortable to the touch, love. It’s not real gold, is it?”

“No, not all of it. Daddy wouldn’t let me get one.” You sigh as you lean your head on his chest and hiccup when he pats your ass softly at the remark.

Draco could practically see the flashing signs around you saying how plastered you were, and it was truly entertaining at the most. He knew you were drunk when you flaunted your father’s money around, which you typically never do. He finished his cup before tossing it somewhere, holding your hip with two hands now.

You look up at him at the movement, wide eyes only reflecting your pupils. “What?”

“Nothing, love. Just admiring.” He scanned your body once more and planted a kiss to the top of your head. “How many drinks have you had so far?”

You shrug and gasp when someone poured a fresh round right behind Draco. “Let’s go get some more!”

He shook his head and locked his arms behind you, “No more for you. You are so fucking drunk.”

“I am not!” You huff and almost stomp your golden heel on the ground like a spoiled child. “Blaise and Pansy are! They’re practically fucking behind you!”

Draco pursed his lips and pulled you away from the center of the common room. It was funny how only during Halloween you would be more drunk than he was. Any other time, he would be absolutely plastered and ready to throw you over his shoulder for some quality time in the bedroom. Besides, he was also drunk, but not as drunk as you were at the moment.

“Hey—!” You whine and stumble up the staircase to his dorm. “Where are we going?”

“You’re done for tonight, my love.” He opened his shared dorm and quickly shut it behind him, quieting the room from the loud mass of music and people downstairs.

You blink at the sudden quietude and look up at him with eyes that made him want to abandon everything and take you there. Draco cleared his throat and adjusted himself, rubbing his palms against his eyes.

“Let’s get you changed into comfortable clothing, yeah?” He dug through his clothes to find a sweater and guided you toward the bathroom, flicking the light on.

“Draco?” You mumble as he sat you down on the counter and pulled your golden pumps off. “Draco.”

“Yes, baby?” He look up at you from his kneeled position, eyes equally blown wide. “What is it?”

You blink again and just watch him for a little longer, keeping eye contact with the blonde. Even in your intoxicated state you still found time to admire him.

“Nothing.” You sent him a cheeky smile at his expression, taking off your golden wings and handing them to him.

He stood from his spot and kissed your shoulder, “Do you wanna shower or go straight to bed?”

“Bed.” You yawn.

Draco hummed and helped your stand, slowly removing your dress and replacing it with his quidditch sweater. You smiled tiredly and leaned your body against his when he began wiping the makeup off your face, playing with the end of his tie.

“You remembered.” You murmur sleepily, blindly reaching for your toothbrush you kept in the boys dorm.

“I’ve been doing this for two years straight, I think I would know.” He handed you your toothbrush and toothpaste before removing the rest of your makeup and golden pins from your hair. “There.”

“Thank you.” You spoke with your toothbrush still in your mouth and leaned against the counter as Draco moved around you to change.

When you were both settled into bed, you wanted to just fall asleep right then and there, but you still had one thing to do. Your body was practically on top of his when you thought of it, your head rested on his bare shoulder.

“Draco?” You murmur and trace hearts on his chest, splaying your hand over his beating heart.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head over to you, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“Happy third year anniversary.” You smile softly and fiddle with the promise ring he got you years ago.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” He hugged you tighter, head now buried in your shoulder and neck. “Thank you for being amazing.”

You kiss his cheek and sigh, “I love you.”

“I love you more than you could ever know.” Draco murmured and kissed you properly. “Cheers to three years.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[seafarersdream]

Kiss, Marry, Kill? (Tom Glynn-Carney x Y/N)

It’s just a harmless game right? But who knows where it could lead to.

TW // Strong language and profanities.

The cast of House of the Dragon was in the midst of their whirlwind promotional tour, and today was no different—yet somehow, the stakes felt higher. Maybe it was the lights, the throng of people, or perhaps the sense of anticipation as they took their places on the plush, velvet couches. Tom Glynn-Carney slouched back, legs spread wide, his usual confident smirk playing on his lips as Ewan Mitchell settled beside him, more reserved but with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye.

The interviewer, a seasoned pro, knew how to work the room. She had them loosened up within minutes, firing off the usual questions about the upcoming second season. But then, with a mischievous glint, she leaned forward, practically rubbing her hands together in glee as she announced, “Alright, lads, let’s play a quick game of Kiss, Marry, Kill.”

Tom’s brows shot up, intrigued. He was game for anything. Ewan, seated to his right, nudged him with an elbow, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as the interviewer continued.

“I’m going to give you three names,” the interviewer said. “And you have to decide who you’d kiss, marry, or kill. Simple as that.”

Tom cocked his head, his smirk widening into a grin. “Go on then, hit us with it.”

The interviewer paused dramatically, milking the moment. “First up: Y/N L/N.”

Tom’s grin faltered for just a second, and then it came back, but this time there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something far less cocky and far more sincere. He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Y/N wasn’t just a name to him. She was a fucking icon, an absolute goddess on screen and off. He’d been following her career for years, from her stellar performance in Succession to her recent, jaw-dropping role alongside Cillian Murphy in Oppenheimer. And damn it if he didn’t have the biggest crush on her—a full-blown, no-holds-barred crush.

Ewan noticed the shift in Tom’s expression and snickered, leaning closer. “Oh, she’s got you good,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Tom to hear.

“Come on, mate, don’t be shy now,” the interviewer urged, eyes dancing with mirth.

Tom leaned back, pretending to mull it over, but he already knew his answer. He always did when it came to her. “Alright,” he drawled, dragging the word out, “Y/N L/N, you say?”

Ewan was practically vibrating with laughter beside him, and Tom shot him an exasperated look. “I’d kiss the hell out of her, that’s for damn sure,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “And, honestly, fuck the game—I’d marry her too. I mean, have you seen her? She’s fucking brilliant.”

The room erupted in laughter, the interviewer included, but Tom wasn’t done. “As for kill,” he continued, a wicked grin stretching across his face, “I’d kill anyone who tries to get in my way.”

Ewan clapped a hand to his chest, feigning injury. “I’m wounded, Tom, absolutely devastated,” he said, playing up the dramatics. “I’m not even in the running, and I feel like you’ve killed me already.”

Tom just shook his head, a playful snort escaping him. “Sorry, mate, but Y/N’s got me all tied up in knots. Can’t be helped.”

“Christ, you’re smitten,” Ewan teased, leaning back with a grin of his own. “She’s going to see this, you know. You’re basically handing her all the power.”

Tom’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful bravado giving way to something more intense. “Good,” he said, voice rougher now, more serious. “She deserves all the power. She’s earned it. And if she ever wants to cash in on it, I’m here. Hell, I’d be on my fucking knees if she asked.”

The room went silent for a beat, the weight of his words hanging in the air. It wasn’t just a schoolboy crush. It was full-on, can’t-get-her-out-of-his-head, utterly besotted admiration.

Ewan broke the silence with a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “And here I thought this was just going to be a bit of fun. You’ve gone and made it deep, Tom.”

Tom shrugged, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. She’s fucking perfect.”

The interview wrapped up soon after, but the mood had shifted. Tom had bared more of himself than he intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. If Y/N ever saw this—and he hoped like hell she would—he’d own every word.

As they left the set, Ewan threw an arm around Tom’s shoulders, still laughing. “You’re in deep, mate. Good luck with that.”

Tom just grinned, eyes distant, already thinking about Y/N. “Yeah,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Good luck, indeed.”

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Le Grand Rex in Paris was ablaze with lights, the red carpet a river of scarlet against the darkened streets. The premiere of Oppenheimer had drawn a star-studded crowd, but even among the brightest, Y/N L/N stood out like a rare gem. Draped in a sleek, custom-made gown that hugged her curves in all the right places, she moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who she was and the power she held.

As she made her way up and down the carpet, cameras flashed, fans screamed her name. Y/N was in her element, all smiles and waves, pausing to sign autographs and take selfies with fans. The night had been a blur of interviews, compliments, and chatter, but there was still an infectious energy about her that refused to wane.

Then, as she paused to speak with yet another member of the press, a journalist—a wiry man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose—grinned conspiratorially. “Y/N, have you seen the clip of Tom Glynn-Carney from the House of the Dragon interview?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Tom? No, I haven't had a chance to catch up on much lately. It’s been nonstop.”

The journalist’s grin widened, sensing an opportunity. “You really should. Someone in the crowd can show you. It’s—well, it’s something.”

Intrigued, Y/N glanced over at the crowd, where several fans were already excitedly pulling up the clip on their phones. She motioned for one of them to come closer, leaning in as the screen was thrust towards her. The surrounding crowd hushed, everyone eager to see her reaction.

As the clip played, Tom’s voice filled the air, his brash, unapologetic confession spilling out as he talked about her. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed in amusement as Tom proclaimed his undying crush, his wish to kiss and marry her, and the sheer intensity of his words.

Her reaction was immediate and unfiltered—a laugh, rich and full of genuine delight, bubbled up from her throat. She wasn’t one to shy away from a little flirtation, especially when it was as earnest as Tom’s had been. As the clip ended, she looked up, her smile broadening into something that was part teasing, part genuinely flattered.

The crowd around her erupted into cheers, phones held high to capture every moment. Y/N wasn’t done, though. She knew exactly how to play this game, and she had no intention of letting Tom’s boldness go unchallenged.

She placed a hand on her hip, adopting a mock-serious expression as she addressed the cameras. “Glynn-Carney, if you’re watching this—and I hope you are—why don’t you go ahead and hit me up? Let’s see if you can live up to all that big talk.”

Her playful tone sent the crowd into a frenzy, laughter and cheers echoing down the carpet.

The journalist, sensing there was more to be mined from this moment, leaned in with a sly grin. “Y/N,” he began, “I have to ask—House of the Dragon is all about the Targaryen civil war, right? Team Black versus Team Green. Where do you stand?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, I’m Team Black all the way,” she declared, her voice ringing with certainty. “Rhaenyra’s got that fire. I mean, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon into battle and claim what’s rightfully yours?”

The crowd roared their approval. Y/N soaked it in, but she wasn’t done yet. She shot a playful, almost daring look at the camera, the one she knew would find its way to Tom eventually.

“But…” she continued, drawing out the word as she placed a finger thoughtfully against her lips, her expression turning wickedly amused. “Maybe Tom could do something to sway me to the Greens. I mean, he did say he’d marry me, right? That’s a pretty tempting offer.”

The crowd erupted once more, and Y/N couldn’t resist pushing it further. She leaned in, pretending to whisper into the camera but making sure everyone could hear.

“Here’s the thing, Tom,” she said, “I’m a tough sell. But you never know, I might just let you win me over. You’ve got your work cut out for you, though—dragons, crowns, and maybe a little more of that sweet-talking from you.”

She straightened up, giving the camera a wink and a dazzling smile. “But I’ll tell you what—if you can make me switch sides, I’ll wear green just for you.”

The crowd went wild, and Y/N laughed, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d just unleashed. She waved to the fans as she turned to continue down the red carpet. The internet was going to explode with this, she knew it.

As she moved on, continuing her walk down the red carpet, her mind briefly wandered to Tom. He was probably watching this somewhere, maybe even laughing as she was now. She couldn’t help but think that if their paths crossed—and she was sure they would—things might get very interesting.

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The next morning at the set was unlike any other. The usual pre-shoot routines were thrown into chaos as cast and crew buzzed with excitement, their energy crackling through the air like wildfire. It wasn’t just any morning; it was the morning after Y/N L/N’s premiere clip had blown up the internet.

Tom stepped onto the set, still bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep—who could sleep after a night like that?—but the moment he saw his co-stars’ faces, he knew he was in for it. The teasing began before he even had a chance to grab a cup of coffee.

“Oi, Tom!” Emma D’Arcy called out, their voice dripping with mock-seriousness as they waved their phone in the air. “Got any plans to defect to Team Black? I hear Y/N might be open to negotiations.”

Tom felt his face flush, but he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Fuck off, Emma,” he shot back, but there was no venom in his words. He was too giddy to be anything but amused.

Rhys Ifans leaned in right next to him. “Tom, I reckon it’s time you took this to the next level. Send her something, maybe—oh, I don’t know—a bouquet of green roses? Subtle, yet effective.”

Fabien Frankel clapped Tom on the back, his grin as wide as anyone’s. “Honestly, mate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. The internet’s gone feral, and it’s all because of you two.”

Tom could barely keep up with the barrage of comments. He was trying to play it cool, but inside he was practically vibrating with excitement. It was surreal—no, it was fucking unbelievable that Y/N had not only seen the clip but had played along so brilliantly. And now everyone knew about it. The entire set was alive with it.

Phia Saban sauntered over, raising an eyebrow at Tom. “You know, Tom, this could be your chance.”

Ewan Mitchell, who had been laughing since Tom walked in, finally decided to join the fray. “I told you, didn’t I? You went and made it deep, and now look where it’s gotten you—straight to the top of her radar. You’ve got the whole world watching now, mate. What’s your next move?”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything. He still couldn’t quite believe it—Y/N L/N, the Y/N L/N, had flirted back on camera, in front of the entire world. He felt feral, like a wild animal caught between disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy.

He let out a loud laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Next move? Christ, I don’t even know. How do you top that? Maybe I should just show up to her next premiere with a bloody dragon.”

Emma patted him on the shoulder, their grin wicked. “That’s the spirit, Tom. But seriously, you’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot. The fans are already shipping you two.”

Just when Tom thought the teasing couldn’t get any worse, Matt Smith strode onto the set, coffee in hand and an amused smirk already playing on his lips. The moment he saw Tom surrounded by the cast, all of them still buzzing from the morning’s revelations, Matt knew something was up.

“What’s all this then?” Matt asked. “Looks like I’ve missed quite the party.”

Olivia Cooke, always quick to catch Matt up, beamed at him. “Oh, you’re going to love this. Tom’s little schoolboy crush on Y/N L/N just went global, and she’s dared him to do something to win her over.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and then he laughed—a loud, unabashed sound that filled the entire set. “You’ve got to be shitting me! Y/N L/N? As in, the Y/N L/N? Tom, you poor bastard.”

Tom groaned, running a hand down his face, but there was no hiding the grin that threatened to break through. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Matt. This is my life now.”

Matt shook his head, still chuckling. “I can’t believe it. I’ve worked with Y/N before, back when she did that one season on The Crown. She’s a bloody force of nature, mate. All or nothing with her. If she’s daring you, it means she’s already intrigued. But you better be ready to deliver, because Y/N doesn’t do things halfway.”

Ewan leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “Matt, you’ve got to tell him—what’s she like when she’s got her sights set on something?”

Matt set his coffee down, crossing his arms as he considered Tom with a gleam in his eye. “Let me tell you something, Tom. Y/N is the kind of person who, when she decides to go after something, she doesn’t just dip her toes in the water. She dives headfirst, no second thoughts, no holding back. And she expects the same in return. If you’re thinking about going after her, you better be ready to put everything on the line.”

Tom could feel his heart pounding, not from fear, but from the thrill of the challenge. “Fuck,” he muttered, grinning despite himself. “Sounds like I’m in for one hell of a ride.”

Matt clapped him on the back, his grin as wide as ever. “That’s the spirit, Tom. Just remember—don’t half-ass it. Y/N doesn’t play games unless they’re the high-stakes kind. But if you go all in, who knows? You might just come out on top.”

Fabien, who had been listening intently, couldn’t help but chime in. “Honestly, Tom, the whole world saw that clip. If you don’t do something epic now, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Tom nodded, feeling a surge of determination. “You’re right. I can’t just let this slide. I’ve got to do something that’ll knock her off her feet.”

Matt grinned knowingly. “Good lad. And remember, she might be all or nothing, but if you go for it—really go for it—you’ll have her respect, if not more.”

As the cast began to prepare for the day’s shoot, the energy on set remained electric. Tom felt like he was on the cusp of something huge, something that could either be the best or the most terrifying thing he’d ever done. But one thing was for sure: he wasn’t about to back down.

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As the day’s shooting wound down and the cast began to peel away, heading back to their trailers or the waiting cars that would whisk them off to their respective lives, Tom found himself in a bit of a daze. The entire day had been a rollercoaster of teasing, planning, and more than a little anxiety as he contemplated what his next move with Y/N might be.

He was leaning against the side of the set, sipping on a bottle of water, when Matt walked over, still wearing that trademark smirk of his. Tom looked up, sensing that something was coming, and he wasn’t sure if he should be excited or terrified.

“So, Tom,” Matt began, his voice casual but with a hint of something mischievous beneath it, “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign,” Tom shot back, but his grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still buzzing with nerves.

Matt laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to love this, mate. Turns out, I’ve got plans this weekend to meet up with Y/N at a pub. Just a low-key thing, some friends catching up, you know?”

Tom’s heart skipped a beat. “With Y/N?” he repeated, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. “You’re meeting Y/N this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Matt confirmed, his grin widening. “And I was thinking, why not bring you along? You know, give you a chance to show her just how charming you can be in person. It’s the perfect opportunity, Tom. No cameras, no pressure—just you, me, and Y/N with a few pints.”

Tom’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat. The idea of seeing Y/N in person, outside of the spotlight, was exhilarating. But at the same time, the thought of it made his stomach twist with nerves. What if he fucked it up? What if he got there and couldn’t string two words together?

“I don’t know, Matt…” Tom began, trying to find a way to express his uncertainty without sounding like a complete wuss. “I mean, what if it’s weird? What if she doesn’t even want me there?”

Before Matt could respond, Ewan, who had apparently been eavesdropping (and who was never one to let a good opportunity for chaos pass by), sidled up next to them. “What’s this?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Tom getting cold feet? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Fabien, who had joined them as well, crossed his arms and gave Tom an exaggerated look of disappointment. “You’re not seriously backing out, are you? Come on, Tom. You’ve been handed the perfect setup, and now you’re going to chicken out?”

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Matt cut him off, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Tom, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Y/N’s cool as hell, and trust me—if she didn’t want you there, she wouldn’t have thrown down the gauntlet like she did. She’s daring you to show up, mate. You can’t just ignore that.”

Ewan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “And let’s be real, if you don’t show up, you’ll regret it. For the rest of your life, you’ll be that bloke who had a chance with Y/N L/N and didn’t take it.”

Fabien nodded, his expression turning serious. “This is your moment, Tom. Don’t overthink it. Just show up, be yourself, and let things happen. Besides, Matt’s got your back. You’re in good hands.”

Tom looked between the three of them, feeling the pressure from all sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go—he did, more than anything—but the idea of sitting across from Y/N, trying to impress her without making a fool of himself, was daunting as hell.

Matt, sensing Tom’s hesitation, gave him a reassuring smile. “Look, Tom, I get it. But trust me on this. Y/N’s not just some untouchable A-lister—she’s a person, same as you. And she’s already interested, or she wouldn’t have flirted back the way she did. Just show up, be yourself, and have a laugh. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tom swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Fuck it, I’ll do it. I’ll come.”

Ewan let out a whoop of approval, slapping Tom on the back. “That’s the spirit! And hey, if things get awkward, just remember—Fabien and I will be waiting here to take the piss out of you when you get back.”

Fabien grinned. “And don’t forget, Tom, you’ve got a job to do. Make sure you convince her to change her allegiance to the Greens.”

Tom rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Right, because that’s what this is all about—winning her over to Team Green. Piece of cake, right?”

Matt chimed in with a snort. “Like hell.”

Tom steeled himself. “If I come back empty-handed, you lot better be ready to deal with the aftermath.”

Ewan clapped him on the shoulder again, his grin widening. “Don’t worry, Tom. Whatever happens, we’ve got your back. Just go in there and be yourself. The rest will take care of itself.”

And as Matt sauntered off with a final salute, Tom couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he had a shot at making Y/N see the appeal of the Greens—whether that was Aegon’s colors or something else entirely.

[iris-qt]

𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎 / 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔

ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴ ʙᴏʏꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ

I. Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo freezes mid-bite of his chocolate frog, giving you the kind of look someone reserves for a talking cat. "You can’t pay the what now?" he says, mouth still half-full.

When you repeat it, his eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into his curls. "Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve been paying the rent this whole time? Babe, what rent? Where are you sending this money? Do I need to send the lads to go 'talk' to someone?"

You insist you’re serious, and he bursts into laughter so loud it echoes around the room. He’s clutching his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. "Oh, this is rich! Next, you’ll tell me you’ve been working overtime at Flourish and Blotts to afford my ‘extravagant lifestyle.’ What’s next, huh? Selling cauldron cakes on the side?"

When you try to keep a straight face, he leans forward, his expression deadpan now but his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, seriously, though. Should I sell my broom? Start knitting scarves for a Galleon a pop? Maybe I can busk on Diagon Alley…play the ukulele or some crap. People love that."

By now, you’re wheezing with laughter, and he just shakes his head, smirking. "Merlin, Y/N, if your acting career doesn’t work out, at least we know you’ve got a future in comedy. But seriously…rent? That’s cute.”

By now, you’re gasping for air, struggling to hold it together, and Mattheo’s smirk only grows wider as he watches you. He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing tone. "You know," he says with a glint in his eye, "If you really need help with the rent... maybe I could offer you a private lesson in how to make some extra Galleons."

II. Theodore Nott

Theo looks up from the chessboard he’s been meticulously studying for the last half hour, an eyebrow raised in mild confusion. "What do you mean you can’t pay the rent?" he asks, his tone calm but with a dangerous edge of skepticism.  

You repeat it, adding a dramatic sigh for effect.  

He blinks slowly, as if trying to process whether you’ve gone mad or if he missed some critical detail in your relationship. "You’ve... been paying the rent? Since when? Because I distinctly recall handling all of that."  

When you insist, he leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers like he’s analyzing a particularly tricky potion. "Alright, either you’ve been scammed by an exceptionally creative con artist, or this is your latest attempt to distract me from beating you at chess."  

You pout, staying in character, and he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, do you even know where the rent money comes from? Because I can assure you, it’s not your side gig selling those questionable potions on Etsy.”  

The corners of his mouth twitch as he fights a grin. Finally, when you can’t hold back your laughter anymore, he rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Honestly, I need to start charging you rent for all this nonsense. At least make it worth my while.”  

As you finally break into laughter, Theo sets his chess pieces down with a dramatic sigh, his eyes softening just a bit. He leans in, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. "You’re impossible," he mutters, his voice a little quieter now, though there’s still a teasing glint in his eyes. "But you know, I wouldn’t have it any other way."

He gives you a small, almost shy smile, then leans back in his chair, his usual cool demeanor returning. "Now, let’s see if you can distract me enough to win this game."

III. Draco Malfoy

He would look at you like you’ve gone MENTAL

“Haha funny joke, y/n,” he rolls his eyes, going right back to reading his book and munching on his green apple.

When you reiterate it, Draco squints at you, lowering his book slightly, the crunch of his apple freezing mid-chew. "Excuse me? You what?" he says, a hint of incredulity creeping into his voice.

When you repeat it again, this time with extra drama, he sits bolt upright, his apple rolling forgotten onto the table. "Wait, wait, wait…you pay the mortgage? Since when? Did I suddenly get amnesia and forget we’re Muggles now? Because last I checked, the Manor doesn’t even have a mortgage!”

He grabs his wand, waving it theatrically. "Accio sense, because clearly you’ve lost yours!”

You keep the act going, insisting you’re serious, and he just gapes at you like you’ve declared you’ve taken up dragon wrestling as a hobby. Finally, he narrows his eyes.

“Y/N, love, if this is about that handbag you wanted last week, just say so. No need to concoct elaborate tales about rent payments. Merlin’s beard, you're ridiculous.”

When you burst into laughter, he leans back in his chair, scowling but unable to hide the faintest smirk. "I’m marrying a lunatic," he mutters, reaching for his apple again. "At least the lunatic has good taste in handbags."

IV. Blaise Zabini

Blaise looks up from his cup of espresso, one perfectly arched brow lifting as he tilts his head at you. "I’m sorry, darling. Did I hear that correctly? You can’t pay the rent? You mean the rent that I, Blaise Zabini, the man with seven vaults at Gringotts, didn’t even let you look at, let alone contribute to?"

You double down, trying to sell your story, and he exhales slowly, setting his glass down with the exaggerated care of a man trying to keep his composure. "This is new. Tragic, even. Shall I sell the antique Italian sofa to keep us afloat? Or, Merlin forbid, cut back on the imported silk sheets?"

When you keep insisting, he leans back, crossing his arms and giving you a slow once-over, his lips twitching with amusement. "You know what? You’re right. It’s all gone. We’re destitute. Better start knitting socks and selling them on Knockturn Alley. Maybe I’ll start charging Draco for advice. He’s overdue for paying his mate tax.”

Finally, when you burst into laughter, Blaise smirks, shaking his head and snaking an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/N. If anyone else tried this nonsense, I’d have them banned from my flat and my life. But you? You get away with everything.”

V. Regulus Black

Regulus doesn’t even look up from his book, clearly too absorbed to even register your words at first. But when you repeat it, his eyes flicker briefly to you, a quizzical expression crossing his face. "Wait, what do you mean you can’t pay the rent?"

You try to explain, going for maximum drama, and he sighs, setting his book down with a soft thud. "Y/N, darling, I pay the rent. I handle everything. You’re telling me you’ve been struggling to pay it all this time?" His tone is flat, not even slightly concerned, just bemused. "I’ve already transferred the payment for the month. Did you forget?"

You continue the joke, and Regulus glances at you again, narrowing his eyes. "Are you seriously trying to convince me that you…you…have been paying the rent? Did you somehow think I’d believe that, or did you just want an excuse to create drama?"

He picks up his book again, unfazed. "You’re lucky you’re charming, because if anyone else tried this, I’d seriously reconsider their grip on reality." He sighs with exaggerated patience, "Don’t you remember? I’m the one who handles the bills. The whole thing is already sorted. No need to panic, love."

When you can’t keep it going anymore and laugh, he glances up once more with a slight smirk, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Y/N, your attempts at theatrics are as bad as your cooking. At least make the drama more believable next time.”

As you laugh, Regulus's serious expression softens just a touch, and he leans over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You’re impossible, you know that?" he mutters, but there's a warmth in his voice. "If you ever do run into a problem, though... just tell me."

You smile, and he sighs, shaking his head with a hint of affection. "I swear, you’ll be the death of me." But there’s a small, barely noticeable smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the kind he only gives when he’s not trying to be all stoic and mysterious.

VI. Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle doesn’t even flinch when you announce that you can’t pay the rent, simply pausing for a moment before his sharp, calculating gaze turns to you. "What are you on about?" he asks, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of annoyance. "You’ve been paying the rent? Since when did you even have the opportunity to pay it?"

When you repeat it with exaggerated seriousness, he leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes, clearly trying to make sense of it. "I’ll admit, you’re certainly creative...but no. I’ve always taken care of the bills. I don’t recall a single instance where you were involved in such matters."

You continue the joke, and he chuckles darkly, though it’s clear he doesn’t fully buy it. "If this is your attempt at gaining attention, it's a poor one, darling. Do you think I’m so easily fooled?" His tone softens just slightly, a flash of something that could almost be affection in his eyes.

He stands and steps toward you, leaning in just close enough to make you feel his presence, but not too close to be truly comforting. "Next time you need a distraction, don’t go around pretending to pay rent," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear ever so slightly. "It’s beneath you. If you need something, ask. But don’t insult my intelligence."

When you finally start laughing, Tom smirks, his eyes glimmering with something softer, though it’s well hidden behind his usual cold demeanor. "You’re insufferable, Y/N. And that’s probably why I... let you get away with it."

A/N: Thank you to @fanfics4ever for this idea ♡

[megwritesriddles]

I Despise You ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 1 - Angry Sex. Reader is the Head Girl and Riddle is the Head Boy, Riddle likes to push Reader's boundaries until it all boils over. Minimal plot but a smidge anyway.

Tags: Angry sex, P in V, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected sex, Magic as birth control, Enemies with benefits, Arguing (which is badly written oops), Attempt at angst, Tiny bit of sexism from Riddle, Reader is wearing a dress (I imagined one of those Sabrina Carpenter babydoll dresses lol), Head boy Riddle, Head girl Reader, Historical inaccuracy.

Word count: 3.4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: First installment of Kinktober and first post on tumblr!! woo!! please show me some love if you like it!! I am terrible at writing arguments because I hate confrontation irl oops!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Being appointed as Head Girl was supposed to be the best thing to ever happen to you. You’d been working toward it since at least the third year and it was all you ever seemed to hope for. It was meant to be an achievement that you and your friends would all celebrate, perhaps head down to the Three Broomsticks and spoil you with free drinks for the night in honour of your achievement. But, life wasn’t so kind.

When your position as Head Girl was announced all you had received from your friends were pitying looks, all due to the pesky little detail of who had been announced as Head Boy to serve alongside you. Tom Riddle. Tom. Fucking. Riddle. Of course, Professor Dippett had had to announce his name first, meaning you hadn’t even gotten a second of enjoyment from your appointment. He had stood up smugly at the Slytherin table, basking in the cheers from his house, flashing a charming smile to the room as he made his way to the front of the hall. For the first time in your life, at that moment, you had prayed that Head Girl would not be you. It was. Your name was called, your house applauded and your legs carried you over to Riddle’s side. He grinned down at you, that little glint of mockery in his eye that you could only see from this close. You wanted to punch him, that would surely lose you the Head Girl position and solve this problem, but you had your future to think of. You had repeated that to yourself all that night as you and Riddle had been whisked off to the staff room to be briefed on your positions and given your badges. Riddle was the picture of charm, laughing with the various professors that came to speak with you, you just sat there, smiling falsely, looking a little like you’d just been hit over the head with a plank. You felt like it too. Your lifelong dream had just been turned into something poisonous. Really, you thought to yourself as Slughorn guided you through the corridors to the Head’s quarters, you should have seen this coming. They weren’t supposed to appoint two students from the same house, so logically, if you were picked for Head Girl, it was only ever going to be Riddle at your side. You wondered why you hadn’t considered this before, it was so obvious with hindsight. You scowled at the back of his and Slughorn’s heads as you ascended some stairs, them chatting together jovially, making your blood boil.

Slughorn shows you the small common room, enough seating for about four people, a fireplace, and a little kitchenette with some stools, decorated with opulence. It would all have been very nice if it hadn’t been for Riddle standing there commenting on the lovely brass crests. The separate rooms were your biggest comfort, both off of little halls from the common room in different directions. You could hide in there from him, you told yourself over and over. You didn’t have the headspace to be impressed by the beautiful ensuites with golden-tapped baths, just wanting Slughorn to leave so you would no longer have to listen to Riddle’s disgustingly smooth voice. Eventually, Slughorn did leave the two of you to go to bed. As he shut the common room door, you could see Riddle’s mouth opening from the corner of your eye. You darted to your room before he could get the words out, slamming the door, relieved to find all your things already there. You collapsed onto the bed and sighed. The nightmare was only beginning.

The hands on the clock point to 3:30 am. It’s a Monday morning, you have a meeting with Dumbledore in just a few hours, but sleep is impossible. He has friends over again. The deep bass of their voices reverberates through the walls of the common room. They’re chatting and laughing like always, most likely drinking too, you’ve spotted them with whiskey a few times. You seethe with anger in your bed, just last week you had kindly approached him, and not for the first time, about this issue. You had emphatically asked him to be considerate of you and your time. He had placated you like always.

“Yes darling, I didn’t realise we were being so bothersome, won’t happen again,” he had soothed, but of course, it was happening again right now. You kept somehow getting caught in his charms, the very ones you had been immune to for so long. It had to be the sleep deprivation he was causing, that was what was making you melt a little whenever he called you darling or smiled just so, in the way that used to make you feel sick. In the dark of your room, you lie on your side and curse inwardly. Reporting him had crossed your mind many times, but you knew he would just charm his way out of it, like he did with everything. Your ears rumble with another deep laugh from the group of men in the other room and you’ve had enough. Throwing off your duvet and stomping to your bedroom door, you fling it open and head into the common room. He sits reclined leisurely in an armchair by the fireplace, his sleeves rolled up and tie loose. His ankles are crossed, resting on the coffee table in front of him, he chuckles at something, you couldn’t care less what, the firelight dancing over his face. He hasn’t noticed you, but across from him on the opposite armchair, his friend, Avery, straightens up and grins at you. His eyes drift over you, you realise instantly that you stomped out here in only your nightgown and socks and flush lightly, but stand your ground.

“Riddle!” you bark, surprising even yourself with the viciousness of your tone. This brings his attention to you effectively. His other two friends turn to look at you over the back of the sofa, Riddle doesn’t even straighten up when he looks up at you, smirking in a self-satisfied way that makes your insides twist oddly.

“Hello darling,” he speaks smoothly. “You look a picture tonight,” he lets his eyes drift up and down your figure without shame. You go red with anger and embarrassment.

“Doesn't she just?” One of his friends, Rosier, comments with a mocking chuckle. This sets you off.

“Out!” You screech. All the boys look taken aback by the intensity of your outburst. “Out, out, out!”

“Fine,” Riddle hisses in an infuriatingly calm tone. “You lot should go, you heard the Head Girl,” you hear the mocking tone in his voice, suggesting he thinks you’re hysterical. You stand there with your fists clenched, staring the men down as they get up and head for the door, feeling ridiculous but not wanting to show any weakness. Once they all leave and shut the door behind them, the two of you fall into silence for a moment. He’s watching you, but not in the leering way from earlier, he almost looks impressed with you. You avert your eyes from the closed door onto his face, he’s leaning forward now, with his elbows on his knees. Just when you’re considering simply turning to leave, he speaks up. “Happy now, darling? You’re really no fun, we were only talking,” his eyes fix on yours, burning deeply. You scoff indignantly.

“It’s nearly 4 am Riddle, you know I have a meeting in the morning, I have brought this up to you countless times and–”

“Yes, but you don’t seem to understand that I simply don’t care to keep you happy, darling,” he grins. You let out a frustrated yelp.

“You are unbelievable! How were you ever chosen for Head Boy when you're this insidious? You don’t deserve it!” You snap. This stirs something in him. His eyes darken and he stands up from the armchair.

“And you do, do you darling?” he asks slowly, stalking toward you. “You’re the picture of perfection, aren’t you just?” You’re not sure what to say to this, any answer seems wrong like it’ll give him reason to dig into you further. Your mouth opens and shuts for a moment before you settle on a shrug. Your hands flex in the fists they’re tightened into as a smirk spreads over his face. “You don’t seem so high and mighty from here,” he chuckles, stopping in front of you. He has several inches on you and you’re forced to look up at him. “You look lovely in this little nightie,” he comments with a grin, reaching out to trace the lace at the strap with the tip of his finger. You jolt away instantly, glaring up at him.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you dare comment on my looks!” You hissed, smacking his hand away. His eyes darken even more at this.

“And don’t you dare smack me,” he growls. “I was merely paying you a compliment,”

“Like hell you were!” You scoff. “You’re trying to make me feel small,” he rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“If the shoe fits,” he grins. You scowl, shoving at him without thinking about it. He stumbles back slightly, looking momentarily bewildered. When he realises what you just did he surges for you. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you into the wall. You let out a small oof sound as you collide with the wall, surprised it didn’t hurt more than it did. For a moment, you wonder if he had avoided hurting you until you look up and see the fire in his eyes, then you wonder if he wishes he had just killed you. “I would have rather had literally anyone as Head Girl than you, you are the bane of my existence,” he snarls, gripping your shoulders hard.

“I’m the bane of your existence? I don’t have friends over until the small hours of the morning! Imagine how I feel!” You spit back. You can tell he’s barely listening to you.

“You are insufferable! You’re the only person who doesn’t fawn over the sight of me and it’s you that I get stuck with for the whole year!” he scoffs. “I will not let you control my lifestyle!” he adds angrily. “I will not bend my life to make you happy! I am not subservient to anyone and I never will be!” you roll your eyes exaggeratedly.

“You are ridiculous,”

“I despise you,” he hisses venomously. “You’re always everywhere I am, you’re always following me around, tailing me in every subject, you had to go for this position when I’ve had my sights locked on it since first year!” He pushes you back into the wall again. “Are you happy now darling? You got Head Girl and now we’re both miserable! You must be thrilled!”

“You think I’m following you around?” you sneer. “How full of yourself are you that you think me going for Head Girl was about you? You seem to think you’re the centre of everything, but in my life Riddle, you are just an inconvenience, you are nothing,” you seethed. Something flashes in Riddle’s eyes, his jaw working.

“I am nothing?” he demands. “I am nothing?” he’s shaking now and you’re sure he’s about to hex you or punch you, his eyes flick between yours, his whole body coiled tight and ready to pounce. Instead, his lips are suddenly on yours, thrusting your head back against the wall. You yelp in surprise, your eyes wide, the back of your head hurting from being pressed into the hard surface. He kisses you without a single hint of affection, kissing you like it’s a punishment, a way of muzzling you, but Merlin, somehow it feels good. He’s grabbing at you, taking fistfuls of your nightgown in his hands. You find that you’re kissing him back, that you have been practically since his lips met yours and that you’re doing so eagerly. Your head is spinning as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you harshly to him, the hard planes of his lean body pressing against you. Your arms snake around his neck and he lets you yank at his hair. He’s kissing you so hard that you’re practically tipping backwards. Your tongues rub against each other as you kiss frantically. He’s leading you to the sofa, throwing you down and then settling above you. He props himself up, his hands on either side of your head. You both take this moment to catch your breaths, staring intensely at each other as your chests rise and fall rapidly. “Am I still nothing?” he growls, a little breathless. Once again, you don’t know what the right thing to say is. One of his hands moves down and starts to push up the hem of your nightdress, revealing your thighs to his devouring eyes. You grab him and kiss him again instead of talking, just as hard and unforgiving as before.

You feel your nightdress being bunched at your waist and hear the faint sound of a zip being pulled down. You kiss him harder, nipping at his bottom lip harshly and scrunching your eyes shut. He just groans in response, pushing down his slacks haphazardly, his other hand keeping him propped up above you. You’re suddenly awfully overheated, both from lying on the sofa in front of the blazing fireplace and from the realisation of what he’s planning to do to you. Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to let him fuck you on the sofa in the common room? Riddle? The man you’ve hated for years? The man who has been deliberately antagonising you for the past several weeks, and especially tonight? Your hands are resting on his stomach, and you connect the dots in mild horror that you’ve been unbuttoning his shirt without even realising it. You feel completely out of control of yourself, you’ve never acted this way before. You gasp in surprise when you feel his fingers pressing against your core through the fabric of your underwear. His fingers rub roughly, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through you. You whine slightly, feeling him smirk against your lips. You scratch at his chest a little in retaliation. He grunts, you can’t tell if he likes it or not and it bothers you. His fingers hook into your underwear and start to tug down. This is your last chance to back out, to throw him off of you and run away, but you find yourself unable to do anything but writhe and cling to his shoulders. The underwear is discarded on the floor and he is using his free hand to spread your thighs open, you flush deeply as he pulls away from the kiss to look down at you. You can feel how wet you are and you hate that, based on the smug little grin on his face, he knows it too. Your cheeks are burning as he reaches down, using two fingers to spread your folds. He lets out a needy sound by accident and it’s your turn to gloat. He flashes you a glare and plunges a finger into your tight heat in revenge. This makes your back arch and your lips part and he smirks back at you.

“So wet…” he comments, self-satisfied, his finger creating obscene squelches as he pumps it in and out of you slowly. You snarl at him, lashing out in embarrassment. You grab at the tent in his boxers, feeling him rock-hard under the fabric. He frowns in embarrassment, withdrawing his finger from you which makes you whimper a little. “You’re asking for it now, darling,” he growls. He’s scrambling to rid himself of his boxers. His tip is quickly prodding at your entrance and you gasp and arch slightly. He glides against you for a moment, his tip rubbing deliciously at your clit, seeming like he’s waiting for something. Then, he’s plunging into you. You let out a pathetic little cry and he grins. “Does that feel good?” he coos mockingly as he fully seats himself inside you. You both gasp for breath as your tight heat embraces him. It does feel good, torturously so, but his mocking tone irks you.

“I hate you,” you growl up at him as he lowers himself onto his elbows, his face right above yours. He scowls, panting slightly.

“I hate you too, believe me,” his arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place. He buries his face in your neck and starts to nip as his hips begin to rock harshly. His thrusts are hard and punishing, slow, withdrawing almost completely and then slamming forward, just short of painful. You whine and grab at his back, letting your nails dig into him, he doesn’t seem to mind. He speeds up, grunting loudly against your neck. He pulls back to watch as you move along with his thrusts, your eyes scrunched shut and lips parted with desperate whines. He pants, his hot breaths washing over your face. He speeds up even more, growling like a crazed animal. “Look at you, falling apart under me, what would your friends think?” he taunts. Your eyes squeeze tighter shut, a wave of shame passing through you that somehow heightens your pleasure.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whine. You hear him laughing mockingly. You muster your strength and clench your walls around him. His laugh morphs into a choked groan at the sensation, his hips stuttering. He was more affected by this than you expected, his pace now brutal as he fucks into you, clearly desperately chasing release now, rather than focusing on playing mind games on you. His lips meet yours again and you kiss back. It’s clumsy and sloppy, given how fast he’s moving, but it just heightens everything you’re feeling. “You gonna come already?” you mock as you feel him faltering in his thrusts. He groans angrily against your lips.

“I despise you,” he hisses shakily, propping himself back up so he can thrust into you more relentlessly. You return the sentiment, but it’s a little half-hearted now between whines. You cry out when you feel his thumb on your clit, rubbing hard. He seems oddly determined to have you orgasm before he does, perhaps to humiliate you, but it feels so good that you can hardly complain. He grunts loudly, you can tell he’s trying to goad you, but his speech is incoherent between sounds of pleasure and the slapping of skin against skin. You feel it building up and you can’t deny yourself the pleasure, you don’t try to hold back. However, he still falls apart first. His hips stutter then stop entirely and he groans loudly, you feel his seed spilling deep into you, warm ropes painting your inside. His thumb doesn’t let up its rubbing and it allows you to also reach your release. You pulse around his oversensitive cock and he gasps and whines pathetically, but continues rubbing you through it until all the aftershocks are over.

He remains propped above you, catching his breath for a while, his head hung low. You both whine slightly as he withdraws from you slowly, leaving you with a pop. He takes a shaky breath, staring at his essence that trickles out of you. You just stare at the ceiling, unsure what to do now. You feel the sofa dip as he reaches down to the floor, his chest touching yours as he lowers himself gently. He grabs his wand from his trouser pocket and props back up. He mumbles a spell, cleaning you of his essence and eliminating the chance of pregnancy. It pleases you a little that he took care of it, rather than leaving it up to you. He moves, sitting back on his haunches between your legs, lowering the hem of your nightdress to cover you back up. You stare at each other silently for a moment as he tucks himself away.

“This changes nothing between us,” he asserts, narrowing his eyes at you. You want to laugh at that, as clearly everything has just changed in some way, but you know what he means.

“Yeah, it changes nothing,” you repeat with a sigh. He glances over at the fireplace for a moment, before his eyes flick to the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Now chop chop, don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore?” he grins. Your eyes widen and then you kick at him in frustration, realising what he’s done. He just laughs. “You better figure out a way to cover those hickeys quickly,” he smirks. You whine indignantly, burying your head in your hands.

“I’m going to kill you!”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[nottyoursbutmine]

harry potter fic recs

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

harry potter 1

harry potter 2

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harry potter 4

harry potter 5

harry potter 6

harry potter 7

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[nottsbitch]

T.N.

Dating Theo Nott

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader. smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.3k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; head empty. no thoughts. just him.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[girllblogging777]

𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (best friends, flirting)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.4k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : exploring a haunted house isn’t very pleasant… except when your flirty best friend mattheo is with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you never should’ve let the boys convince you to sneak out after curfew.

the slytherin common room had been buzzing with energy earlier, filled with laughter and stories about the supposedly haunted house at the border of the forbidden forest. you’d been reading your book, half listening to what your friends were saying as they argued about whether or not they believed in these rumours, or if it was just another one of the castle’s unsolved mysteries.

“it’s not even that far,” theo had said casually, grinning. “we’ll be back before anyone notices.” and of course, you didn’t wanna be the only one to back out. not when you were the only girl in the group, always trying to prove yourself to them. not when you wanted to keep that confident and fierce image you had. and especially not when mattheo riddle was watching you with that usual smirk of his, his dark eyes practically daring you to say no.

✩✩✩✩

so here you were tonight, standing outside some old crumbling building that once had been called a house. the full moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows around you and the boys. the air was colder here too, sending shivers down your back and under the knitted sweater you were wearing. but, of course, you weren’t gonna let anyone know that.

enzo and blaise were already thrilled when they pushed open the door, making plans and chatting excitedly about the little nighttime adventure you were having. draco and theo strode confidently behind them, following them inside and leaving you standing next to mattheo, who was staring at you with crossed arms, looking calmer than you’d even seen him.

“scared yet ?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes and scoffed, pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart rate sped up - from the alluring boy or the frightening house next to you, that you didn’t know. “please. this place is barely standing. the only thing i’m worried about is the roof caving in.”

he chuckled at your answer and leaned closer “don’t worry. if it does, i’ll protect you.”

your stomach flipped, and this time you knew it had nothing to do with whatever ghosts were inside that house. the brunette boy was the only human being who had such an effect on you, and you hated it. “ghosts be damned,” you muttered, shaking your head as you followed the others inside. “i don’t need your protection.”

“that we’ll see, love” mattheo said behind you, barely above a whisper.

inside, the house was somehow creepier than you’d imagined. there was dust everywhere, and when the floor creaked beneath your steps, you understood why all these rumours had been invented in the first place. despite the darkness, you could see the faded paintings on the wall, following you as you walked down the narrow hallway. at some point you could’ve sworn one of the figures on the portraits moved, but when you turned to look at it, nothing.

a couple of feet away, blaise was laughing at something draco had said, but you were too busy scanning the dark corners of the house to listen to their conversation. theo was already taking about splitting up, which of course, only managed to make the anxiety tighten in your chest.

“everyone, make groups !” the boys declared, clearly excited and proud of their idea. “makes it more fun”

before you could protest, mattheo was at your side again. you’d been hyper aware of his presence behind you for the past couple of minutes, and now there he was, grinning down at you as your shoulders brushed. “well, looks like we’re partners, then.” you shot him a look. “convenient.”

“hey, you’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, and it took everything in you not to make another sarcastic remark. still, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved now, knowing you wouldn’t walk through this scary place alone.

the two of you silently ventured down another hallway, away from where the others were heading. the floorboards creaked with every step you took, the shadows of your tall figures stretching out against the wall as you moved deeper into the house. it was unnervingly quiet, but the sound of mattheo’s steady breaths and confident footsteps reassured you a little.

the brown eyed boy glanced at you, his pupils gleaming with amusement. “you’re quiet, getting nervous ?” you muttered a barely audible “i’m fine” though you couldn’t ignore the quickening of your pulse. you hated haunted places, or even darkness in general, but you’d rather get crucio-ed than admit that to him.

he moved closer, his warm breath hitting your neck, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning towards him when he spoke, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” you glared at him, grateful the obscurity of the scene hid the blush on your cheek, “in your dreams.”

he laughed softly but he didn’t push it, still, his presence was oddly comforting. it made you feel a little less like something was about to jump out from the shadows, and a little more like you wanted him even closer.

somehow, the air in the house seemed to grow colder the further you walked. every once in a while, you’d hear something : a creak, a whisper, maybe just the wind, but it sets your nerves on edge.

suddenly, a loud bang echoed from one of the rooms down the hall and you jumped, grabbing mattheo’s arm without even thinking. your heart raced, and you cursed under your breath when you realised what had just happened.

“told you” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked down at where your hand gripped his hand. you scowled, quickly letting go. “that was just instinct.” still smiling, he nodded “sure, sure…” but then his gaze softened, and his voice dropped. “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

something in his tone made your breath catch, and for a second, you forgot where you were. the haunted house, the cold, the creepy portraits, all of it faded as you stared up at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was more of his usual flirting.

before you could say anything, another loud sound echoed from upstairs. this time, it wasn’t just a bang. it was footsteps. slow, deliberate footsteps moving across the ceiling. you froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you looked up. riddle stepped in front of you, his usual playful expression gone and replaced by something more serious.

“stay close,” he whispered and you nodded as you followed him up the creaky stairs , ignoring the tightening in your throat. each step felt heavier than the previous one and the closer you got to the top floor, the louder the sound became. you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching you.

mattheo’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time you didn’t pull away. you were too focused on the shadows that seemed to move on their own, on the way the cold seemed to press in on you from all sides.

“do you trust me ?” he asked quietly. you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. he’d always been flirty and playful when it came to you, blurring the lines between friendship and more. however, tonight, things felt different. despite everything, you nodded “yeah…”

he squeezed your hand lightly, his hand never leaving yours. “good, because i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“oi !” theo’s voice echoed through the hall, startling the both of you and shattering the blissful bubble you were in. you quickly dropped mattheo’s hand and stepped back, but it was too late.

theo was grinning, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone in a haunted house, and for your liking. “well, well, well… look at you two getting all cozy up here.” your face heated up immediately, but mattheo just smirked, clearly unfazed. “jealous ?” theo proceeded to snort, “of you ? never.”

he glanced between the two of you, and the teasing look in his eyes made you wanna disappear. “we’re heading back, this place is more boring than we thought it would be. meet us downstairs and don’t get lost… or, you know, distracted.”

with that, he turned around and disappeared back down the dusty stairs, leaving you and mattheo standing there in awkward silence. you could feel your chest thumping as you tried to figure out what to say, looking at the old wallpaper that was falling apart instead of meeting his gaze.

“see ?” he whispered, leaning down just enough for you to hear. “told you i’d protect you. even from theo’s terrible sense of humour.” you groaned and pushed him slightly, the banter between you settling back down, “shut up !”

you may have hated haunted houses, but the truth was, you kind of liked the way his hand felt in yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey ! this is me making my weekly appearance on this app, cause i just HAD to write about this request

please comment and reblog ! tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs

[sofs16]

jealousy, jealousy!

pairing actress!reader x charles leclerc note hunger games has me in a chokehold

yn.yln

liked by tomblyth, charles_leclerc, and 11,392,695 others

tagged : charles_leclerc, and tomblyth

yn.yln what a lovely month! 🧡💥

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ynbllthh her and tom are so cutieeeeeeeeee

⤷ yn.yyyn she’s literally head over heels for charles.

tomblyth Who’s that handsome in slide 4

⤷ yn.yln i think u mean slide 3 😝

⤷ tomblyth rude.

⤷charles_leclerc 😂

yn.yln just posted 2 instagram stories!

yn.yln

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 7,293,393 others yn.yln proudest of this one 🥹 #forzaferrari #p1!❤️

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charles_leclerc ❤️

charyn_updates

liked by yn.yln, and 10,596 others

charyn_updates Yn and Charles at today’s NBA game🧡

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scuderiaaf theyre such a pretty couple

user1 never beating the not in love allegations

tomblyth

liked by charles_leclerc, yn.yln, and 15,594,292 others

tomblyth Small film dump

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yncharlover you cant say he doesnt like her 😭

yn.yln took the 2nd one. where are my credits. this is copyright!

⤷ tomblyth Photo credits: Yn Y/m/n Y/l/n 🖋️

charles_leclerc ❤️

⤷ user1 charles walked so tom could run away😭

user1 tom only replying to yn in all his posts is sooo

charles_leclerc

liked by yn.yln, and 16,494,392 others

tagged : yn.yln

charles_leclerc Tom has started a film dump train ❤️

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tomblyth 😂

lando.jpg I started it Charles. ⤷ yn.yln actually I DID. I HAD YN.JPG 6 YEARS AGO

⤷ charles_leclerc Yn started it 🤗

user1 oh charles humbled him real bad 😭

yn.yl

liked by tomblyth, charles_leclerc and 20,584,282 others tagged: tomblyth and charles_leclerc yn.yln the film is out! ❤️

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tomblyth you are so talented. world meets lucy gray!

⤷ yn.yln tom 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc So proud of you!❤️ ⤷ yn.yln i love and miss uuu

user1 bros really testing the “can charles leclerc fight” line

f1wagossip

liked by 31,484 others

f1wagossip Looks like our favorite wag is getting comfy with someone that isn’t in red 👀

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ynlevlerr YN WILDIN IN THAT LAST AND FIRST SLIDE

verstarlov “only got eyes for charles” 🙂🙂🙂

ynlover me knowing the ‘congrats on breaking through hollywood’ post is coming because she always does that when her costars are rising 🙂

#SOF: should i pt2?

future sof: i made a pt 2

[rafesslxt]

slytherin boys hc realizing they were to rough after an argument and comforting you?😭🙏

thank u for requesting, have fun reading <3

✧.*𝑺𝑳𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 | 𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 + 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾

characters: mattheo riddle, tom riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy

warnings: fighting, arguing, fluff, mention of make up sex, so a bit smut

Mattheo Riddle:

let‘s be honest, he would definetly take a moment to realize he actually hurt your feelings

his pride and stubbornness would be in the way at first

but when he sees the first tears rolling down your cheeks he slowly walks towards you giving your forehead a kiss while hugging you tightly and swiping your tears away with his thumb

"I am so sorry princess, I swear you‘re right. I didn‘t mean it like that, you know that, right? I love you so much I would never want to hurt you on purpose. Can you please talk to me again, baby?"

he would pull you onto his lap and rock you slighty while whispering sweet things into your ear telling you how sorry he is and that it won‘t happen again

Mattheo would just cuddle you for the rest of the night and maybe have make up sex with you If you‘re not too mad at him

"I‘m gonna show you how sorry I am princess." he would be a MUNCH and eat you out, never stopping no matter how sensetive you got.

"Want me to stop? Come on baby, one more just one more I promise." his tounge would flick relentlessly over your clit over and over again, his green ties around your wrists making it hard to protest.

Tom Riddle:

bro would try to manipulate you at first and tell you you‘re overreacting and too sensetive but when you leave the room and don‘t try to reach out to him for a few days..

you got his head spinning

maybe he would wonder why you‘re ignoring him until he remebers your fight which he almost forgot because it was so unimportant to him

i think he would try to get closer to you so you had to talk to him

but when you still wouldn‘t and he notices the hurt in your eyes, he would wrap his arms around you from behind and whisper in your ear how sorry he is

he couldn‘t believe he really spoke these words but you meant too much to him to loose you over an stupid argument he couldn‘t even remember at first

"How difficult was that for you?" you ask when your little frown on your fave disappears and is switched with a smirk. He rolls his eyes and presses you against him, still whispering in your ear.

"Don‘t try your luck too much darling." While his fingers squeeze your sides

100% rough make up sex where he would punish you for not talking to him

"Fuck you think you can just ignore me? Act like I‘m not there?" while he pounds into you from behind, pushing your face down into the pillow.

"What was that darling? Couldn‘t hear you over all the noises you make."

Theodore Nott:

I have a splitted opinion on Theodore to be honest

on one side he would be the sweetest and comfort you right away without thinking twice about it

but on the other hand I also see him giving you a cold shoulder, also too stubborn and ignorant to realize how much he hurt you

but on either side, when he then would notice how you ignore him he would so something romantic to make it up to you

I just see him with a picnic prepared outside at the lake with your favorite snacks and a plushy for you.

"I‘m so sorry cara mia you mean the world to me, I never meant to hurt you. Please let me male it up to you."

After the picnic and you forgiving him he would pin you down, not giving a fuck who would see you If walking mear by

"Theo! Everyone could see!" you struggle against his fingers on your clit. "hmm let them see how sorry I am principessa."

he would pussy your skirt up and eat you out like Mattheo but without the whole overstimulation

when you come for the first time he wouldn‘t hesitate or waste any time to pull down his pants and fuck you next to the lake

"Fuck we should argue more often If that‘s the outcome of it. Me pounding your tight little pussy amore." You would shoot him a glare but moan his name right after, eyes rolling back

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He would be THE sweetest ever

but also he‘s someone who try‘s to stay calm during fights but then when he is really mad, he just explodes without thinking

as soon as he sees the first tear rolling down your face he would walk over to you and hug you so tight you almost couldn‘t breathe.

"God y/n I am so so so so sorry I swear it will never happen again! Shit I‘m so stupid I don‘t even deserve you baby."

when you would forgive him and already forgot about the fight you two had, he couldn‘t stop thinking about it.

he was just so sorry he had to show you somehow so the first thing that came to his mind was buying you something you wanted since forever

a fucking puppy

"Enzo! Oh my god you did nooot!" you said in a whiny tone about to cry from happiness

"No no no princess please don‘t cry I can bring him back If you don‘t – " "What? No!" you take him out of his hands and look down into it‘s cute face "thank you thank you thank you!"

after the day went by and you two got everything you need for your new baby, you wanted to thank your boyfriend

"Oh – fuck yes." he‘d groan while you ride him, bouncing up and down "Bloody hell I‘ll give you a whole damn zoo If that‘s what‘s going to happen after." he says while gripping your hips and fucking right up into your thankful pussy

Draco Malfoy:

he didn‘t know what to do at first, your cold shoulder towards him felt like a knife in his chest even tho he knew he deserved it

he said some things to you in an argument he wasn‘t proud of, too ashamed when he knew you only wanted the best for him

The only thing he knew was showering you in gifts which would work with little things but not this. You wanted him to apologize with real words.

after days of giving you gift after gift he realized for himself that it wasn‘t going to work.

"Darling? Do you have a minute?" he would ask to which you just nod slighty

He would take a deep breath before speaking " I am sorry for what I said. I truly am. And I never should have said that to you or let my frustration out on you I‘m really ashamed of what vame out of my mouth when everything you wanted was just the best mor me."

It felt like a stone fell from his heart after speaking what he had thought for days and your happy face told him it was just what you wanted to hear

"Shit y/n –" he groans when you take him deeper into your mouth, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"Just wait what we‘ll do after that pretty boy." you chuckled before taking him back knto your mouth and sucking him for dear life.

thank u for reading I hope u liked it 🫶🏻

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @danaeneocleous @sagetakami [if you wanna be removed tell me 💞]

xoxo sarah <3

[lqveharrington]

So American | D.M.

summary: You and Draco have a lazy day. However, you and Draco take your teas differently.

pairing: draco malfoy x american!reader

includes: MAJOR FLUFF, kissing, teasing, playful bantering

a/n: i was listening to olivia rodrigo.

When you first moved to the United Kingdom to further your studies on witchcraft and wizardry, you didn’t expect to fall head over heels. Especially when that person wasn’t know for their behavior back at Hogwarts; At least that’s what you heard from your co-workers. You didn’t believe that he — the sweetest nurse at St. Mungo’s — could be so cruel to the Harry Potter.

But when you found yourself getting closer to the Brit, you couldn’t help but ask him his reasoning. It wasn’t like you asked with malicious intent, and luckily he didn’t view it as such. He simply stated that he was young and stupid, making you stifle a laugh. From there, your friendship with the blonde deepened and blossomed into a steady relationship.

There were often days where you both worked on such a tight schedule at St Mungo’s, but on some occasions, you were both scheduled to have the same day off. These special days were entitled: Lazy Days. Quite original.

Lazy days were a familiar routine. The both of you would stay in bed as long as you could until you were starving and then lay on the couch reading a book until it was tea time. Something you had gotten accustomed to.

However, tea to you was different to people from England.

“Dray?” You yawn softly as he ran his fingers up and down your back. You finished reading a chapter a while ago and just wanted to be in the present until 4:30, which was when Draco would get up and prepare tea for the both of you.

Draco hummed in response to you calling out for him, gaze lifting from his book to your tired eyes. “My love?”

“I’m cold.” You pull on your blanket tighter and give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you can continue reading.”

“You’re cute, you know that?” He set his book down and pulled you into his arms so you were comfortably straddling him. He pulled the blanket around the both of you as you easily tucked your head in his neck.

“You feel warm.” You hum into his neck, hands finding his shirt and slipping underneath. “Super warm.”

He chuckled softly, pulling his head back to take a look at your tired face. His eyes did a full sweep of you. From the stray strands of hair sticking to your forehead to the curves of your face.

“D’you wanna come with me to make tea?”

You shiver when his hands slip under your top and around your waist, a contrast to his other body parts. You move your head back into his neck, nodding softly at the question.

“Of course.”

Draco kissed your cheek and removed the blanket covering the both of you with ease. He secured his hands underneath your thighs and made his way over to the kitchen, setting you on top of one of the counters.

“Counter’s cold.” You grumble as you tuck your hands into your arms in attempts to warm your body from the freezing granite.

“M’sorry.” Draco gave you sorry smile and brought his hands down to your thighs and gentle rubbed to warm you. “Better?”

You smile warmly at him and let him go back to his tasks as the kettle whistles at you. This was always one of your favorite sights. Just the domesticated life you and Draco led outside of witchcraft and wizardry, well, as much as you could.

“Can you add creamer to mine?” You murmur and wince when you hear him drop the tea spoon into the cup itself, causing a loud clunk to ring out. You knew this was going to happen, it happened every time.

He looked up and glanced at you from the corner of his eye before blinking. “No.”

“Dray.” You huff, watching him stir in the sugar for the both of you. “Please.”

“Creamer is for coffee. You can have honey with your tea.” He opened the refrigerator for the honey. “Here.”

In horrible attempts, you tried to grab the creamer from the fridge but get pulled away by Draco himself. Rolling your eyes, you squirm and try escaping but no avail.

“Draco, you can have it with honey or whatever you put in your tea. I want creamer in mine.” You cross your arms, tilting your head up the slightest bit to face him. You watched him look at you with absolutely no emotion, hands still keeping you in place.

You pouted jokingly, making yourself seem cuter than normal. Draco raised a brow at you and shook his head, making you pout even more.

“Please.” You rest your forehead on his chest and feel his arms encase your body. “Just this once.”

After a beat, you hear Draco sigh and you know you’ve won him over, even if it hurts his poor Brit heart.

“You’re so American, my love.” Draco kissed the top of your head and opened the fridge for the creamer, handing it to you. “I’ll get you to convert eventually. You are living here now.”

“I’ll make you move to the states with me.” You cheekily reply, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Dray.”

He rolled his eyes and squeezed your hip as you poured creamer into your tea, watching the transparent liquid change. “I love you too, you American.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[berzahoes]

manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

[riddleauthor]

⛥ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆

Hey babe, I'm Lady Riddle! Here you'll find imagines and one-shots about the Slytherin Boys, playlists, moodboards, p! links and other things I'll discover along the way. Check it out! 🖤

Please send me asks as much as you want, especially ideas for writing (I'll respond once your request is ready) <33

★ 𝖘𝖑𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘

imagines (soon)

ghostface pic (mattheo, tom, theodore)

erotic gif (mattheo, tom, theodore)

ghostface p!link 1

ghostface p!link 2

ghostface p!link 3

ghostface p!link 4

slytherin boys playlist

★ 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1

p! audios

carnal desires imagines

b&w vibes playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1 (soon)

p! links professor pt. 2 (soon)

professor riddle playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖙

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖟𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖎

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖞 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

English is not my first language. I hope you like it! <3

Don't repost anything anywhere else besides playlists and don't claim them as your own! For any requests like translations send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated!

[megwritesriddles]

In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 21 - Somnophilia. Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, Hand jobs, Oral sex (f and m receiving), Friends with benefits, Denial of feelings, SoftDom!Riddle, HeadGirl!Reader, Manipulation, Faking an illness (chronic fatigue is very real, he's just a lying POS, only briefly mentioned).

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 5.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Okay so despite this poll (sorry), I edited this into a less dark kinktober fic and will then release a much darker (non-con elements) part two after I finally finish kinktober!! This works as a stand alone if you're not into reading that kinda stuff (which I totally understand, ily dw)!! It just felt too dark for kinktober... even tho I literally have non-con as the prompt for day 25.... idk okay!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 COMING SOON !! (but works as stand alone)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The moment the two of you had been announced as Head Boy and Girl at the start of the year, Riddle knew he had to get on your good side. Not only for the purposes of professional engagements and living in the same quarters but also because there would be a lot he’d need from you. Last year, he had found a flaw in the enchantments around the castle, discovering that apparition in and out of the castle was in fact possible, so long as you did so from the room of requirements. He has started attending to business outside of the castle regularly, rallying supporters in closed-off magical communities, among trolls and elves. He also searches for artefacts and researches dark magic when he finds the time, visiting isolated collections owned by old eccentrics who he is able to charm easily. He’s made himself a busy life outside of Hogwarts which he’s determined to keep up in order for his plans post-graduation to go as smoothly as possible. Which is where you come in. 

He leaves for these expeditions every weekend, but obviously, he’s not actually allowed to leave the castle. He has to ask you to cover for him if anyone asks where he’s gone. He concocts a rubbish story about having chronic fatigue and having to rest all the time he can, and that he can’t possibly be disturbed while he’s resting as he’s taking special potions for sleep. It’s all a lie, playing on your empathy, which he knows you have droves of, something you are widely admired for. He tells you that he’s horribly embarrassed about it and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s incapable of being Head Boy because of it, so asks you to cover for him if anyone asks about him. You give him those big sympathetic eyes and agree, workshopping a litany of excuses with him. He almost feels bad with how seriously you’re taking this, how much you want him to feel okay, even though you’ve never liked him much before. Almost. It won’t happen a lot either way, he’s told his ‘friends’ that he will be out of reach and very sternly told them not to question, so they won’t poke around, and anyone else who needs him won’t need him often. He makes a show of being very tired in the evenings in the common room the first few weeks you live together. Soon after, he drops the charade and you don’t seem to notice the falsification happening right in front of you, continuing to cover for him every now and then when it comes up. You even comment optimistically that he seems more energetic lately, to which he smiles.

“I suppose so, yes, it must be that I can finally get the rest I need, thanks to you,” he says smoothly, proud of himself for taking this as another opportunity to keep you pliable. You seem overjoyed to be helping.

In return, he keeps you sweet. At first, he merely observes you to get an idea of what might keep him on your good side. Then, he starts showing up for you. He brings your favourite pastries from breakfast (you have a bad habit of sleeping in, which sometimes makes him wonder how you got this job, but alas), accompanied by a coffee just how you like it. Complimenting you whenever you try a new hairstyle or dress up nicely on weekends. The first time he’d done it, he’d commented on a trim you’d gotten to your hair over the weekend in Hogsmeade. You were baffled, saying no one had noticed a thing all day. He sensed that you found the fact that he was the only one to notice odd, but he couldn’t help being observant. He told you as much, and you just smiled. He makes sure to do any favours you ask of him, so you can’t throw his refusal back in his face in case you want to stop helping him, he needs something to hold over your head. It’s never much, perhaps helping you with a bit of schoolwork, listening to a speech you’ve prepared for Head duties or just jostling the logs in the fireplace of the common room when the flames die down. He’s surprised you don’t ask for more, considering that he starts asking for a lot from you. 

His schedule outside of Hogwarts gets complicated, requiring him to head out occasionally in the middle of the week. You always cover for him, insisting to professors that he’s ill in bed, even though it’s clear by now that you’ve realised he’s actually missing during these periods. Your enthusiasm over helping him out has dwindled as you get the sense you’re being played, but he treats you well enough that you seem to assume the best intentions. How naive. Having someone so respected by the professors, the head girl herself, lying for him, he knows, is the only reason he’s been getting away with it for this long. He’s ‘sick’ far too often and never seen at the hospital wing, never requesting any medicine or showing any symptoms. He wonders what you think he’s doing when he’s away, doubting you could guess the truth, but you never ask despite your increasingly suspicious looks, which he appreciates. He likes you, you’re discreet, a surprising trait for such a goody-two-shoes as you are. He spends more and more time with you in the common room in his free time, charming you and winning you over, making sure he’s there if you need a favour or a ‘friend’ to talk to. He finds you to be intelligent and likeable, you’re funny, even if he prefers a bit of a darker humour than you have. There are silences as you sit together where you stare at him while he works on whatever schoolwork he deems most important that day, he knows you’re formulating all sorts of theories, your brain turning as you try to make a guess.

“I appreciate you being discreet,” he says simply one night as you sit together, working separately on assignments. The statement is followed by a silence in which he is tempted to look over at you to see your reaction but resists the urge.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me what you’re up to?” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement. You already know he won’t, and he knows it too. No matter how good you’ve proved to be about covering for him, if you knew the true nature of what he was up to, you’d run. Tattle before even letting him explain, which really wouldn’t help either way. He turns to you, extending an arm. 

“Come here,” he nods his head in his direction. You look confused, and he doesn’t blame you for feeling that way, he isn’t affectionate with anyone. He makes a point of never being seen as being soft, which is easy given he isn’t soft for anyone. But he knows the type you are, so sweet and kind, the type that you can be won over with a little affection. There’s no one here to see either of you anyway, he can risk it this once. You slowly scoot into his side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He brushes an errant strand of hair from your face and holds you to his side. “I really do appreciate it, I’m always here if you need anything from me,” he whispers. You look up at him and nod. “Good,” he hums. You spend the rest of the night pressed into his side as you do your homework, it’s odd, but he’s warm and solid, and most girls at Hogwarts would kill to be in your position, so you let it be. It becomes a fairly frequent scene, the two of you snuggled up by the fire, especially as the days grow colder and colder. His hands like to wander, brushing places they probably shouldn’t, but you never stop him or say a word, letting your own hands wander a little too. You don’t talk about it, not with him or with anyone else. You know without words that he doesn’t want it to leave the room. It’s just another secret you have to keep for him. 

He starts having the need for more frequent meetings with his little group of in-school followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, as his plans get closer and closer to their time of fruition. The Head Common Room is the perfect place to host, spacious and completely secret, except for from you. He knows he has to sweeten the deal once more to have you leave the common room for long periods in the evening. So one night, while the two of you study together snuggled up, he kisses you. You’re alarmed but immediately kiss back. He knew you would, every girl in the damn school would, but it still feels like an unexpectedly simple triumph. His hand grips your jaw, not allowing you to move away, not that you’re trying to. Your hand gently cups the side of his neck, keeping him close as his tongue carefully breaches your lips, slightly surprised by how willing you are for him. He has a multitude of things he’s considered doing to you, but for tonight, he has to stick with something focused on your pleasure. He doesn’t mind, pleasuring you is an act of domination in its own right. By the end of the night, he has you sat between his legs, your back to his chest as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You squirm and mewl in his ear, your head thrown back on his shoulder, as he holds you securely with an arm around your middle, fucking you on his fingers. He’s high off of the fact he has you completely nude apart from your socks before him, while he’s still fully dressed.

“There we go, darling,” he purrs in your ear, gently pressing his lips to your jaw. “I bet you’ve wanted this for quite a while, haven’t you?” he teases, grinding the heel of his palm against you as his fingers press in and out. You must have, given how quickly you’d let him strip you down, manoeuvre you into the position he wanted, just how soaking wet you’d been from a couple of strategic words of praise. He’d wrongly assumed you’d be a little more prudish, but he was pleasantly surprised otherwise. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, slowing his movements a little so you can focus on his words. You whine softly in protest and he smirks. “Tomorrow evening, could you make yourself scarce for… let’s say three hours? Starting from… six thirty?” his fingers caress your inner walls torturously lightly, almost tickling, making you squirm unhappily.

“Where would I go?” you exhale.

“Library? Walk the grounds? Astronomy tower? I don’t mind, darling, as long as you’re not here,” he kisses behind your ear softly. He expects some questions or protests, but none come, only a simple nod. He’s a little surprised how easy things are with you, although it may have a lot to do with how his fingers are currently buried deep in your cunt at present, he concedes to himself. But you’re always easy, always helpful, so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even though you were more than smart enough to know better. “That’s a lovely girl,” he smiles against your skin. He hesitates, unsure whether to reveal the transactional nature of his kindness toward you, but he feels he must assure you somehow that it will be worthwhile. “I’ll reward you accordingly, I promise. You’ll hurry back to me at nine-thirty, won’t you? I’ll be missing you by then,” he purrs, trying to further pull the wool over your eyes with some flattery. He straightens up to look down at you, your head still resting back on his shoulder. “Won’t you?” he prompts again, kissing your forehead. You nod, giving him a pleading look and bucking your hips helplessly. You want him to keep going, feeling half-insane from his unmoving fingers filling you up.

And that he does, finger-fucking you through two mind-blowing orgasms that night, showering you with ever more ridiculous praises as the night goes on. It’s unclear whether you’re losing your mind to the pleasure and not understanding him, or if he’s just spewing every compliment he can possibly think of. Once you’re thoroughly debauched, he helps you into your bed as your legs are too shaky on their own, laying you down and kissing you goodnight with a slightly stilted tenderness. You watch him in quiet confusion as he retreats from your room, feeling satisfied and yet completely confused. 

It becomes a bit of a routine, whenever he needs you to stay away from the common room, or otherwise go out of your way for him, he pulls you into his lap in the evening and tugs down your underwear, pleasuring you expertly. Soon, it becomes harder to tell, as he begins to get you off every night, whether he’s after something or not. You don’t know if it’s just his efforts to make sure you don’t forget to think of him positively, you’re far from oblivious to the fact you’re being bribed, or if he’s just enjoying it at this point. He stretches out your encounters more and more, especially when you start returning the favour, using your hand on him while he does the same to you. You’re pleasantly surprised how aroused he gets just from fucking you on his fingers, always at least half-hard by the time you can get your hands on him. When he introduces his mouth into the equation, you’re sure he’ll be asking something big of you soon. But he doesn’t, nothing new comes up, other than you also beginning to use your mouth on him. He seems to love it, so you suppose it must have been motivation enough. He likes to take his time, to make you feel helpless and desperate, not seeming to care if it leads him to spend long periods of time kneeling before you, which was something you were certain he would have never been caught doing for anyone.

It’s a nice relationship in Riddle's opinion, he gets off and he gets what he wants from you. You make yourself scarce and Riddle is able to conduct his meetings in peace in a perfect setting. Whether you’re using mouths or hands, it’s always intensely pleasurable. He grows attached to the sight of you on your knees before him, his cock deep in your mouth as you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes. You’re amazing with your mouth, and usually willing to get on your knees whenever he’d like you to. It’s a perfect arrangement in this way. He loves to hold you down and make you scream using nothing but his tongue. Some of his friends say that eating out a woman is demeaning, but he never feels more powerful than when he has you crying and begging. He loves to make you beg, long-forgotten is the fact he’s meant to be doing this just to keep you sweet, just to manipulate you into helping him. He’s lost in it now, and no matter how selfish he gets in bed, you keep covering for him, seeming to misinterpret him as generous rather than intensely power-hungry. It works well for his purposes, so he lets you think of him as a giving lover.

He’s a little surprised that you haven’t asked for any exclusivity or any indication of whether he’s bringing in other girls at the times he asks you to keep away. He’s not, of course, but he doesn’t understand why you don’t care to ask. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep down it does bother him, every other girl he’d ever been involved with, even briefly, had asked to be his one and only. You’re a sweet girl, the type he assumed would fall in love with him the moment he first got his hands on (and in) you, but you haven’t indicated this in any way. He knows you’re not seeing any other men because he keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Even having gone so far as to cancel a meeting with a tradesman in Diagon Alley to stay back and watch you while you think he’s away. Nothing. You go about your day as normal, come back to the common room and curl up to read your book. Just before bed, you attempt to get yourself off and fail, pouting through your night routine. You can’t do it without him, he notes smugly. He wishes he could come help, but he can’t without revealing his spying. By the time he gets back legitimately, you’re fast asleep. Given all of this, he still doesn’t understand why you’re not asking him for a commitment. It’s not that he wants to commit to you, he doesn’t like the idea of being tied down, even if he currently has no interest or energy to pursue anyone but you, but the fact you haven’t asked drives him nuts. You seem happy to get off with him and go to sleep without asking a single question. He lingers in your doorway, watching your frame rise and fall under your blanket with slow breaths, wondering about you.

He’s surprised when you bring it up. How you’d felt his presence in your doorway while you’d been asleep, despite not being fully awake. He explained that he’d been wanting to help you out (his own evasive phrasing) but that you’d been visibly asleep so he’d left instead. At your expression, he asks you teasingly if you’d have liked him to do it anyway, his teasing smirk only growing when you blush and nod. And so a system was set, he tells you to sleep on the sofa in the common room if you’d like his attention during the night, as he has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to fetch water. You agree and you proceed together like normal for the next few days, pleasuring each other in the evenings when he isn’t busy. Every night, even on nights he wasn’t actually waking up naturally, he would come into the common room to check for you. For a long time, you’re not there, and he’s a little frustrated with you. Why dangle such a tantalising idea in front of him if you never meant to go through with it? He’d been a perfect gentleman, telling you that you could say no if the idea made you uncomfortable, but at the time, you’d seemed apprehensively excited about it, yet now, nothing. His eyes stay glued on your door as he goes about getting his water each night, wishing he could go in there. He tries his best not to show his disappointment when he spends time with you in the daytime, not wanting to come off as pushy and drive you away. He needed you to like him, staying on your good side was non-negotiable and pushing you on a matter like this was generally frowned upon. About a week and a half later, he trudges from his room to top up his glass and sees a lump under a blanket on the sofa. It’s you.

He immediately slows and lightens his footsteps, not wanting to wake you as it would ruin the fun. He hadn’t had time for you the last four days, between increasing stakes when it came to schoolwork and closing in on a magical artefact outside of it, he’d been gone for everything but class and sleep. He creeps over to you, seeing your peaceful face squished against the velvet throw pillow. You must have missed him, he thinks, since you started your little mutual arrangement you’ve never gone more than two days without each other before, mostly because Riddle found himself quite insatiable. He’d always told himself he was uninterested in matters of the flesh, that he enjoyed indulging but could easily control himself, and that he was only doing what he was with you to manufacture a sense of closeness and keep you in the palm of his hand. Yet, he had to admit that he doesn’t usually go so far for the purposes of manipulation and that he never would have done this in the first place if he hadn’t found you attractive. He was unwilling to sacrifice his own happiness for his manipulation, beyond a bit of necessary flattering drivel. So when he’d allowed himself into this arrangement, even simply under a pretence, he had quickly lost control of it and become ravenous for the sensations you could offer. He watches your parted lips as you breathe softly. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, waiting to see if you wake. You don’t. He slips the plush blanket down your body and exposes you to his eyes. You’re dressed in a sweet feminine nightgown and he finds the look to be sweet on you, fitting. You were a perfect thing to corrupt. Yet, he smirks to himself, you had agreed to this, you were already corrupted, so desperate for him that you wanted him even in your sleep. Surely you did want exclusivity from him, you were just trying to appear laid back to not scare him off. You could be endearingly shy like that at times. Yes, you agreeing to this was surely evidence that you wanted more from him than you had. That you needed him.

He slowly and cautiously shifts you around until he can settle comfortably between your legs. His hands run up and down the soft skin of your thighs, keeping a close eye to see if you stir. He wonders if you’re really such a heavy sleeper, or if you’re merely pretending not to have woken for his benefit. At the moment it doesn’t matter to him, you seem asleep enough, and if you are conscious, you’re hardly objecting. He pushes up the hem of your nightdress and grins at the sight of you already bare for him, with no underwear in sight. Naughty girl, he thinks to himself as his hands skim up and down your inner thighs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss just above the little patch of hair shielding the part of you he wants most. He would love to tease you and draw it out more, but he doesn’t want you to wake before he can explore the more intimate aspects. He carefully lies down, guiding one of your supple thighs over his shoulder, spreading you open for his eager eyes. You’re already a little wet, he wonders if it’s from his teasing now, or perhaps your dreamy anticipation. He knows he can get you wetter easily. He uses two fingers to gently spread you open even more, revealing the sensitive pearl nestled within your folds. He blows lightly on it, making you twitch a little. He grins.

Still trying to let you stay asleep for now, he leans in and very gently touches his tongue to your bundle of nerves. You sigh softly in your sleep but don’t seem to wake. Your dreams are turning sticky-sweet, you begin to feel warm and floaty, but you’re not conscious enough to register this change properly. You squirm slightly and moan as his tongue gently swirls around your clit, not touching to keep you just bubbling below waking. Your breath is hitching softly, and little noises are leaving your throat. He can tell you’ll wake soon unless he stops, but he figures he doesn’t mind. He wants to see your face when you wake up to his head between your legs. Will you be shocked to start with? Or immediately eager and accepting? He was oddly thrilled to discover this. Your hands slide away from where they rested on your stomach, trying to grab something as he starts to lap at you just a little faster, your breath hitching a little more, exhaling shakily. He’s surprised you’re still asleep, he’s tempted to use legilimency on you to discover what you’re dreaming of. Your face is flushed and your lips parted blissfully, so he figures it’s something nice. His tongue slides up and down between your slick folds, the familiar taste of you spreading across his tongue as you become more and more aroused. He gently kneads the skin of your hip, pulling you a little closer to his mouth, trying to coax you awake without startling you too much. Your eyelids flutter, but you remain asleep, whimpering quietly. He focuses the tip of his tongue on your clit, making the stimulation just a little more intense, watching for your reaction intently. Your fingers tangle into the crumpled blanket by your side, curling into the plush material, and he knows you're on the very verge of wakefulness. He smirks, gently suckling your clit into his mouth. 

This rips a loud moan from your chest, which in turn makes your eyes snap open. You try to sit up, blinking blearily, looking a little bewildered, trying to make out shapes in the dim moonlight, to understand why you feel lost in a haze of pleasure. Riddle's hand moves, splaying out on your stomach, pushing you back down and holding you there. Your eyes snap to him, he grins up at you from between your legs, looking unbelievably smug, his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. The sight of him between your legs, the knowledge of what he’d been doing while you’d been sleeping, coaxes another moan from your lips. He eases up a little now you’re awake, going back to gentle teasing licks against your bundle of nerves. Your heart pounds and you breathe rapidly, partially reeling from the sudden awakening, but mostly just feeling amazing. You lie back against the sofa, trying your best to get your bearings while he continues smothering you with unrelenting bliss. He pulls back for a moment, though he instantly replaces his mouth with his fingers, not giving you a moment to think. 

“Naughty girl, sleeping without underwear to give me access,” he purrs, his voice rumbling in a self-satisfied manner. You giggle sleepily. You had done that, hadn’t you? He smiles up at you. “Was it a nice awakening, my darling?” he murmurs smoothly, leaning back in to continue his dedicated licks. You whimper softly, your hips twitching before he holds you solidly in place, tutting against your sensitive skin.

“The best awakening, so unbelievably arousing,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, watching him work his magic between your legs. He hums against you. He knows this of course, this was quite possibly the wettest he’d ever had you, only increasing since you’d woken up and become conscious of what he was doing. Your hands slide into his short curls as he works, usually, he might complain about this, but you’re still a little sleepy, and he decides to let it go. You sigh pleasurably, your hooded eyes locked on him. His eyes look up to meet yours as he begins to suckle on your clit once more. Intense pleasure floods over you, your head lolling back, your hands tightening slightly in his hair. You let out a string of desperate moans, moans he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks. You’re close and he intends to get you there, to show you how much you need him, to remind you that you can no longer achieve this alone, if you ever could. He doubles down on his actions, gripping your hip a little tighter to keep you firmly in place. “Oh… Tom!” you plead, trying to grind your centre up into his face. You could get so desperate sometimes, Riddle tuts to himself. “Please,” you beg, anticipating his desire to tease you and hoping to get ahead of it. You need this, badly, he hasn’t been around to help you for days, and the scenario was driving you mad with lust. He’s uncharacteristically gracious, not relenting, continuing to lavish you with exquisite sensation, building you up and up. You look down again, and as his eyes meet yours, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body tenses, your back arching off of the sofa, a guttural cry escaping you. He holds your hips in place, continuing his assault as you ride out the climax. Tears gather in your eyes and you feel a little humiliated by how intensely this is affecting you. 

After several desperate sobs, you finally collapse back, your hands slipping from his hair. You take several deep breaths as he withdraws from between your legs, sitting up to look down at you. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table, wiping his mouth and discarding it haphazardly. You smile tiredly, and you feel exhausted by your sudden wake-up, but completely heavenly at the same time. You stare at each other for a moment. It’s an oddly domestic moment. You’ve never seen him in his pyjamas before, a matching shirt and trousers, made of silk or some other such soft material, the type that’s popular with the rich Slytherin boys. His hair is a little curly naturally, this you did know from him getting back to the common room on rainy days, but is now slightly messed up from your hands in it. You cover yourself back up, tugging the hem of your nightdress back down as he watches. He looks almost sweet, he has been sweet to you, in his own way. He reaches over and touches your flushed cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb, unsure whether he’s trying to prove his effect on you, or just wishing to touch you. 

“I’ll have to think of something to ask of you in exchange for doing that,” he jokes a little unnaturally. You laugh honestly. 

“You didn’t already have something?” you tease, moving to sit up. He smiles, enjoying the way you see through him, just enough to prove you’re not stupid, but not enough to compromise any plans. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t asked for exclusivity with him, you’re not stupid like the others, whether you want it or not being irrelevant to the facts. The facts that were feeling more like theories lately.

“No, believe it or not,” he chuckles, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “But it’ll be easy enough to think of something,” he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you goodnight. “You always find a way of being useful,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[cardansriddle]

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little &lt;3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour. 

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside. 

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet— 

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it. 

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle. 

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind. 

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left. 

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer. 

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised." 

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this." 

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine." 

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers. 

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to. 

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book. 

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done." 

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped. 

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. 

Tom placed the book on the counter. 

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader." 

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat. 

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality." 

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum." 

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse." 

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse." 

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say. 

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface. 

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September. 

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin. 

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened. 

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze. 

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind. 

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her. 

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed. 

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink. 

It was maddening. 

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination. 

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there. 

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling. 

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration. 

“It’s five minutes until closing time.” 

She would not be swayed so easily then. 

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses. 

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.” 

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.” 

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.” 

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf. 

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.” 

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster. 

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk." 

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed. 

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. 

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances." 

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology." 

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like. 

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. 

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her. 

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see. 

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat. 

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them. 

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight. 

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to. 

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

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